The first days back in the US were a bit more of a shock than I had expected, which I suppose is good training for when I'm home for leave and then home for good.
The first, most noticeable and most irritating aspect of returning to the States was the presence of cell phones. The constant use of cell phones in public places annoyed me even before I deployed, and 4 months away from cell phones, Blackberries, pagers, etc has only strengthened my distaste for hearing someone else's phone conversations in public places.
After checking in to our hotel, the next order of business was to obtain additional civilian clothing. None of us on the trip had more than one set of street clothing, and we wore that on the trip home. I started my shopping at the PX of the base where I was training. After nearly 7 months of wearing nothing but Army uniforms, I was a bit overwhelmed by the opportunity to choose what I wanted to wear. I came to my senses and quickly decided that whatever I purchased would look as little like "issue" clothing as possible and would NOT include the colors green or brown.
My first sit down meal (at a local Applebees...not exactly haute cuisine) was also a real pleasure. It was a huge relief not to have to carry a tray and have a relatively wide selection of food. I enjoyed real beer, too, though my first "real beer" was about 20 minutes after take-off from Kuwait.
I also found myself "jumping" at loud noises a bit, which was not a reaction I expected. We live in relative safety a FOB Enormo and I was surprised by my startled reaction to a muffled but very noticeable "thud" during my workout at the base gym. Apparently I am staying much more alert at FOB Enormo than I had realized.
Driving was far less eventful than I had expected, probably because we do have "non tactical vehicles" (pick-up trucks, SUVs, etc) to get around FOB Enormo and I do get to drive occasionally over there at greatly reduced speeds. We have traffic on Enormo too, though not the kind of traffic I'm used to at home.
At this point, my trip is over and I am sitting in an airport in the mid/southeastern US enjoying a last cup of Starbucks and decent Internet bandwith. In a couple of hours, we will start the long journey back to the desert and I will be back to my usual 16 hour days soon.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Freedom from FOB Enormo comes with a price: the trip home.
The first leg of the journey begins with a "space available" flight on a military cargo plane from Enormo down to Kuwait (normally about 90-120 minutes). Military flights require that we arrive at the pick-up point at least 3 hours in advance--even though we don't have to pass through security or obtain boarding passes. We do check our bags in military fashion; bags (you are only allowed one "checked" bag) are placed on an Air Force cargo pallet which is then weighed and prepared for flight. As the plane arrives, we tug on our body armor and helmets and squeeze into the back of the cargo plane onto "seating" made of nylon webbing. The seats are somewhat comfortable for about the first 20 minutes and the rest of the flight revolves around feeble attempts to alleviate an ever more pained backside.
We then arrived in Kuwait, and found ourselves spending nearly two days at an American base in Kuwait before our commercial flight to the US. We then boarded a commercial flight from Kuwait to Germany (6 hours), changed planes in Germany (2 hours), flew from Germany to a major hub in the US (9 hours), changed planes at the hub (2 hours), flew from the hub to an airport near our final destination (1.5 hours) then drove from the airport to our destination (1 hour). The trip back to Iraq will be largely the same, though our stay in Kuwait should be much shorter.
Despite the challenges and fatigue, my travelling companions and I made the best of the situation. I wasted no time and ordered my first "real" beer within an hour of lifting off from Kuwait, followed by another in the airport in Germany (both of which helped me sleep during various segments of the trip). One of the advantages of travelling back to the US on temporary duty is that we wear civilian clothes while travelling to/from Kuwait to the US. When I return home in the spring for "R&R," I will be on a charter plane and wearing a uniform for the whole trip.
In spite of the travel pains, I am glad to be back in the US--and experience a little bit of fall--if only for a short while.
The first leg of the journey begins with a "space available" flight on a military cargo plane from Enormo down to Kuwait (normally about 90-120 minutes). Military flights require that we arrive at the pick-up point at least 3 hours in advance--even though we don't have to pass through security or obtain boarding passes. We do check our bags in military fashion; bags (you are only allowed one "checked" bag) are placed on an Air Force cargo pallet which is then weighed and prepared for flight. As the plane arrives, we tug on our body armor and helmets and squeeze into the back of the cargo plane onto "seating" made of nylon webbing. The seats are somewhat comfortable for about the first 20 minutes and the rest of the flight revolves around feeble attempts to alleviate an ever more pained backside.
We then arrived in Kuwait, and found ourselves spending nearly two days at an American base in Kuwait before our commercial flight to the US. We then boarded a commercial flight from Kuwait to Germany (6 hours), changed planes in Germany (2 hours), flew from Germany to a major hub in the US (9 hours), changed planes at the hub (2 hours), flew from the hub to an airport near our final destination (1.5 hours) then drove from the airport to our destination (1 hour). The trip back to Iraq will be largely the same, though our stay in Kuwait should be much shorter.
Despite the challenges and fatigue, my travelling companions and I made the best of the situation. I wasted no time and ordered my first "real" beer within an hour of lifting off from Kuwait, followed by another in the airport in Germany (both of which helped me sleep during various segments of the trip). One of the advantages of travelling back to the US on temporary duty is that we wear civilian clothes while travelling to/from Kuwait to the US. When I return home in the spring for "R&R," I will be on a charter plane and wearing a uniform for the whole trip.
In spite of the travel pains, I am glad to be back in the US--and experience a little bit of fall--if only for a short while.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Sprung from the FOB
Wow...it seems hard to believe it has been a month since I've had time (or material!) to write.
I have been granted "time off for good behavior" from FOB Enormo and I'm currently in the good ol' United States on a business trip to train the folks who will be replacing us in Iraq next summer. Unfortunately, I am not close to home but will be spending about a week at an Army base in the southeastern US. I've already been here for a few days and it feels almost like a vacation. We are working "normal" workdays (8-9 hours), can enjoy sit down meals and even a enjoy a real beer...or two...or three.
Look for a flurry of posts in the next few days.
I have been granted "time off for good behavior" from FOB Enormo and I'm currently in the good ol' United States on a business trip to train the folks who will be replacing us in Iraq next summer. Unfortunately, I am not close to home but will be spending about a week at an Army base in the southeastern US. I've already been here for a few days and it feels almost like a vacation. We are working "normal" workdays (8-9 hours), can enjoy sit down meals and even a enjoy a real beer...or two...or three.
Look for a flurry of posts in the next few days.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Mail Call Redux
The fun of mail call continues here at FOB Enormo, though modified from our adventures back in the U.S.
Deployment in Iraq does had certain advantages, one of which is daily mail delivery. Our unit mail room clerk uses the miracle of modern technology to post a daily list of everyone who has received letters, boxes or insured mail. The level of suspense isn't the same, but it is amusing nonetheless. The list is normally posted around lunchtime which helps provide a little mid-day excitement (in the event we haven't had a recent mortar attack).
Rather than having everyone hike down the street to pick up their mail, most of the individual work sections have appointed one or two soldiers to pick up everyone's mail. I spend my days in an operations center staffed by about 50 officers and NCOs and am treated to the daily sight of piles of packages being delivered. In addition to familiar US Postal Service red, white and blue boxes, I see plenty of Amazon.com boxes and other internet retailers.
Deployment in Iraq does had certain advantages, one of which is daily mail delivery. Our unit mail room clerk uses the miracle of modern technology to post a daily list of everyone who has received letters, boxes or insured mail. The level of suspense isn't the same, but it is amusing nonetheless. The list is normally posted around lunchtime which helps provide a little mid-day excitement (in the event we haven't had a recent mortar attack).
Rather than having everyone hike down the street to pick up their mail, most of the individual work sections have appointed one or two soldiers to pick up everyone's mail. I spend my days in an operations center staffed by about 50 officers and NCOs and am treated to the daily sight of piles of packages being delivered. In addition to familiar US Postal Service red, white and blue boxes, I see plenty of Amazon.com boxes and other internet retailers.
One of my favorite books as a youngster told the story of life in the Colditz POW camp during the Second World War. The author (a former prisoner) described how the prisoners would "pool" their Red Cross packages in order to gather supplies for an appropriate Christmas celebration. We treat "care packages" from home in much the same way. NOTHING goes to waste; if there are any items left over, we sit them out in our coffee/break room. Snacks, cookies and other edibles are usually devoured within hours--if not minutes. Magazines and books are read and passed on to others. We even have a sort of informal library whose shelves are well stocked with the many books that are sent to us. Disclosure: I'm a voracious reader and booklover (with a basement full of books back home) so most of the books I get my hands on are shipped back home to my precious Elf, who keeps them in her basement for my return.
The generosity of all of you back home amazes us daily. The Louisville Slugger company sent us a couple of bats, a nice glove and a couple dozen t-shirts after reading an e-mail from one of our soldiers. The Drew Estates cigar company sent nearly 500 cigars and about 100 baseball caps to another of our soldiers who is a part-time cigar sales representative back home.
Friends, family and church groups send food, music and books. Your support keeps us strong and helps us pass the time more comfortably.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Amazing People
I've have the good fortune to meet and serve with some amazing soldiers and civilians during my short time here.
This article (originally published in the Catholic Review-official newspaper of the Archdiocese of Baltimore) is about one of those amazing soldiers. who has graced FOB Enormo with his presence during the last few weeks. Unfortunately, his visit was only temporary and he will soon be back out tending to those who need him most: our brave soldiers in the field.
Military chaplains provide much more than just religious services. Especially in these difficult times, they often counsel soldiers as they mourn the loss of their comrades or wrestle with other personal problems. Every chaplain I've known in my career has been there to help soldiers regardless of our faith--or lack of faith, in some cases. Chaplains' important work has been often overlooked, especially in light of recent controversies regarding proselytizing in the military.
Strangely enough, I've run into a heck of a lot of Lutheran chaplains during these past few years in the Army. Our current unit chaplain is Lutheran, a classmate from my Command and Staff College "small group" (Pastor/MAJ Kenneth Homer) is a Lutheran chaplain and Father Woods (subject of the article) is a convert from the Lutheran church. I don't think there's a pattern, just an interesting coincidence.
This article (originally published in the Catholic Review-official newspaper of the Archdiocese of Baltimore) is about one of those amazing soldiers. who has graced FOB Enormo with his presence during the last few weeks. Unfortunately, his visit was only temporary and he will soon be back out tending to those who need him most: our brave soldiers in the field.
Military chaplains provide much more than just religious services. Especially in these difficult times, they often counsel soldiers as they mourn the loss of their comrades or wrestle with other personal problems. Every chaplain I've known in my career has been there to help soldiers regardless of our faith--or lack of faith, in some cases. Chaplains' important work has been often overlooked, especially in light of recent controversies regarding proselytizing in the military.
Strangely enough, I've run into a heck of a lot of Lutheran chaplains during these past few years in the Army. Our current unit chaplain is Lutheran, a classmate from my Command and Staff College "small group" (Pastor/MAJ Kenneth Homer) is a Lutheran chaplain and Father Woods (subject of the article) is a convert from the Lutheran church. I don't think there's a pattern, just an interesting coincidence.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Little Things That (don't) Mean A Lot
I am constantly amused by the small and strange details of our lives on FOB Enormo. You've probably read a million stories about how well they feed us--especially during the holidays. The Baltimore Sun has a couple of reporters currently in Iraq who are keeping a small blog that has talked about the food (among other things). However, the mess halls have a number of quirks you probably haven't heard about.
Weapons: You can't get IN the mess hall without a weapon unless you are a civilian. This rule is absolute and is enforced by...
African Guards: Most of them are Ugandan, some are Kenyan from what I've been told. These men and women are private security guards that are posted at the entrance to the compound where I work, the mess halls and the PX. Since they are neither American nor in the military, they enforce the rules equally and without regard to rank. I've seen more than a few senior officers denied entry to the mess hall because they forgot their ID cards. The guards are firm but very calm. They are also armed with automatic weapons, which means few people are willing to argue with them.
Hand Washing: The signs are clear...you WILL wash your hands before entering the mess hall. We don't have normal soap. Instead, there are large bottles of what appears to be concentrated dishwashing liquid with brand names like "Fairy" (from Kuwait, I think). Use too much, and you'll hold up the line for the sink while you spend 10 minutes rinsing off all the excess. The paper towels are unlike anything I've seen before. They are more like 12-inch wide rolls of thick toilet paper or Kleenex. You pull a section of "towel" from the dispenser and then tear it off. Very strange, but you get used to it.
Heavy-Handed Servers: In a "normal"military mess hall, you sometimes have to beg to get a decent portion of food. In our mess halls, I routinely find myself begging the servers to reduce the portions. They will serve as much food as you can carry on your tray.
Soda/Drink Cans: Ahh.....this is my favorite mess hall quirk! The mess halls serve "brand name" soft drinks (Pepsi, Coke, Sprite, etc) in cans, but the production and canning takes place overseas. I can't read the labels, but I am guessing that a lot of it is canned in either Kuwait or Turkey. Since these countries aren't quite as environmentally friendly as the U.S., the Coke/Sprite products often have pull tabs on the top of the cans. Wow!!!!! I don't think I had seen a pull tab in 20 years until I got here. It is a great reminder of the past, and I make a special point of trying to consume only those soft drinks that are equipped with the pull tabs. I don't know why, but I get a big smile on my face when I pull that tab . It is like being a kid again. I then stuff the tab inside the full soft drink can--something I would not have done while growing up, but something I saw plenty of beer drinkers do while I was growing up. I am sure my mother is cringing while she reads this...trust me, Mom. I haven't swallowed a tab yet!
Weapons: You can't get IN the mess hall without a weapon unless you are a civilian. This rule is absolute and is enforced by...
African Guards: Most of them are Ugandan, some are Kenyan from what I've been told. These men and women are private security guards that are posted at the entrance to the compound where I work, the mess halls and the PX. Since they are neither American nor in the military, they enforce the rules equally and without regard to rank. I've seen more than a few senior officers denied entry to the mess hall because they forgot their ID cards. The guards are firm but very calm. They are also armed with automatic weapons, which means few people are willing to argue with them.
Hand Washing: The signs are clear...you WILL wash your hands before entering the mess hall. We don't have normal soap. Instead, there are large bottles of what appears to be concentrated dishwashing liquid with brand names like "Fairy" (from Kuwait, I think). Use too much, and you'll hold up the line for the sink while you spend 10 minutes rinsing off all the excess. The paper towels are unlike anything I've seen before. They are more like 12-inch wide rolls of thick toilet paper or Kleenex. You pull a section of "towel" from the dispenser and then tear it off. Very strange, but you get used to it.
Heavy-Handed Servers: In a "normal"military mess hall, you sometimes have to beg to get a decent portion of food. In our mess halls, I routinely find myself begging the servers to reduce the portions. They will serve as much food as you can carry on your tray.
Soda/Drink Cans: Ahh.....this is my favorite mess hall quirk! The mess halls serve "brand name" soft drinks (Pepsi, Coke, Sprite, etc) in cans, but the production and canning takes place overseas. I can't read the labels, but I am guessing that a lot of it is canned in either Kuwait or Turkey. Since these countries aren't quite as environmentally friendly as the U.S., the Coke/Sprite products often have pull tabs on the top of the cans. Wow!!!!! I don't think I had seen a pull tab in 20 years until I got here. It is a great reminder of the past, and I make a special point of trying to consume only those soft drinks that are equipped with the pull tabs. I don't know why, but I get a big smile on my face when I pull that tab . It is like being a kid again. I then stuff the tab inside the full soft drink can--something I would not have done while growing up, but something I saw plenty of beer drinkers do while I was growing up. I am sure my mother is cringing while she reads this...trust me, Mom. I haven't swallowed a tab yet!
Combat Patch
Another tradition we have in the Army is the wearing of the "combat patch." The regulations officially refer to it as "Shoulder Sleeve Insignia - Former Wartime Service (SSI-FWTS)," which is a pretty unwieldly name for a piece of embroidered cloth. My college and ROTC classmate (I'll call him WH) refers to it as the "varsity patch."
Army personnel wear a patch on the left sleeve of their uniform that represents the unit to which they are currently assigned. If you have served with a unit in a combat zone, you are authorized to wear that unit patch on the right sleeve of your uniform...hence the name "combat patch." It is becoming rarer and rarer to find anyone in the Army - Regular Army, National Guard or Reserve - who DOESN'T have that familiar right shoulder patch since nearly everyone who has spent time in uniform since 9-11 has spent time in Iraq, Afghanistan or some other locale.
In the recent past, units most often donned their combat patch in a ceremony approximately 6 months after arriving in the war zone. The patch ceremony was a rite of passage for those on their first combat tour and also represented the halfway mark in the unit's deployment.
The Army recently changed its regulations so that even one day of service in a combat zone qualified a soldier or officer to wear a combat patch. That particular change made me very uncomfortable, mainly because it created the opportunity for indviduals to make short jaunts into Iraq or Afghanistan, "punch their ticket" and spend the rest of their career wearing a "combat patch" while having spent little time in the danger area. I haven't seen examples that this is happening - yet - but I am still bothered by the possibility.
I was just as bothered when word spread that my unit would hold a "patch ceremony" and beginning wearing combat patches after only a month in Iraq. I dutifully attended the ceremony, stuck my Velcro-laden patch to my sleeve and promptly removed it. Wearing a combat patch after only a month in Iraq just didn't feel right. I am also a bit superstitious and can't help feeling that wearing a combat patch with 11 months left on my tour will bring me bad luck. A few folks have asked me why I'm not wearing the patch and I am happy to tell them.
The combat patch I was issued for the ceremony now sits in a box under my bed. Unless otherwise directed, I'll dust it off on January 16, 2008--6 months in country, halfway home.
Army personnel wear a patch on the left sleeve of their uniform that represents the unit to which they are currently assigned. If you have served with a unit in a combat zone, you are authorized to wear that unit patch on the right sleeve of your uniform...hence the name "combat patch." It is becoming rarer and rarer to find anyone in the Army - Regular Army, National Guard or Reserve - who DOESN'T have that familiar right shoulder patch since nearly everyone who has spent time in uniform since 9-11 has spent time in Iraq, Afghanistan or some other locale.
In the recent past, units most often donned their combat patch in a ceremony approximately 6 months after arriving in the war zone. The patch ceremony was a rite of passage for those on their first combat tour and also represented the halfway mark in the unit's deployment.
The Army recently changed its regulations so that even one day of service in a combat zone qualified a soldier or officer to wear a combat patch. That particular change made me very uncomfortable, mainly because it created the opportunity for indviduals to make short jaunts into Iraq or Afghanistan, "punch their ticket" and spend the rest of their career wearing a "combat patch" while having spent little time in the danger area. I haven't seen examples that this is happening - yet - but I am still bothered by the possibility.
I was just as bothered when word spread that my unit would hold a "patch ceremony" and beginning wearing combat patches after only a month in Iraq. I dutifully attended the ceremony, stuck my Velcro-laden patch to my sleeve and promptly removed it. Wearing a combat patch after only a month in Iraq just didn't feel right. I am also a bit superstitious and can't help feeling that wearing a combat patch with 11 months left on my tour will bring me bad luck. A few folks have asked me why I'm not wearing the patch and I am happy to tell them.
The combat patch I was issued for the ceremony now sits in a box under my bed. Unless otherwise directed, I'll dust it off on January 16, 2008--6 months in country, halfway home.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Labor Day
Wow. I can't believe that summer has passed so quickly. It seems like only yesterday that I found myself back on active in chilly Western Pennsylvania. I only hope that the rest of my tour passes as quickly as these first 6 months.
Labor Day came and went here with little fanfare. The biggest excitement of the weekend was the start of college football season. There was plenty of trash talk around the office on Friday and Saturday, and more than a few humbled fans on Sunday--especially among the Notre Dame and Michigan alumni. The Army gave me a Labor Day present on Friday--my third Anthrax vaccination--and we attempted to have a small social event on Sunday. The event was intended to be a Labor Day picnic, though it was not much more than mess hall food (chicken, ribs, baked beans) delivered and served stand-up style on our office compound. We refer to these events as "forced fun" and more than a few declined to attend in favor of a normal meal in the mess hall with tables, chairs and a greater variety of drinks and dessert.
I was satisfied to see the day pass with only a few reminders of the holiday. Mondays are just another work day around here. Many of us consoled ourselves with a bit of dark soldier humor, telling each other "Great job, go ahead and take the rest of the day off" (spoken on Sunday night at about 9:00 PM). If nothing else, every new Monday means one more week closer to returning home.
With the end of summer, the weather has also started to cool. High temperatures most days average around 113, rather than 117-120 as we experienced in July.
We continue to settle into a routine here and I am slowly finding that I am able to get a decent night's sleep and even do a little reading. Finding time (and privacy) to respond to personal e-mails is still a challenge but I am slowly getting around to replying to the notes I've gotten from many of you. Our communications/computer folks have stated that there is a plan to offer wireless internet on FOB Enormo in early 2008, so I might be fortunate enough to have 'Net access in my room...but I'm not getting my hopes up.
Happy Labor Day to all of you back home from all of us!
Labor Day came and went here with little fanfare. The biggest excitement of the weekend was the start of college football season. There was plenty of trash talk around the office on Friday and Saturday, and more than a few humbled fans on Sunday--especially among the Notre Dame and Michigan alumni. The Army gave me a Labor Day present on Friday--my third Anthrax vaccination--and we attempted to have a small social event on Sunday. The event was intended to be a Labor Day picnic, though it was not much more than mess hall food (chicken, ribs, baked beans) delivered and served stand-up style on our office compound. We refer to these events as "forced fun" and more than a few declined to attend in favor of a normal meal in the mess hall with tables, chairs and a greater variety of drinks and dessert.
I was satisfied to see the day pass with only a few reminders of the holiday. Mondays are just another work day around here. Many of us consoled ourselves with a bit of dark soldier humor, telling each other "Great job, go ahead and take the rest of the day off" (spoken on Sunday night at about 9:00 PM). If nothing else, every new Monday means one more week closer to returning home.
With the end of summer, the weather has also started to cool. High temperatures most days average around 113, rather than 117-120 as we experienced in July.
We continue to settle into a routine here and I am slowly finding that I am able to get a decent night's sleep and even do a little reading. Finding time (and privacy) to respond to personal e-mails is still a challenge but I am slowly getting around to replying to the notes I've gotten from many of you. Our communications/computer folks have stated that there is a plan to offer wireless internet on FOB Enormo in early 2008, so I might be fortunate enough to have 'Net access in my room...but I'm not getting my hopes up.
Happy Labor Day to all of you back home from all of us!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Blogs, Websites and Security
As you regular readers know, I am extremely careful to leave out specific details concerning my unit, where we are located in Iraq and other facts such as the real names of my comrades. This is for their protection but also gives me the freedom to write about our life here without putting them in danger.
Click here for a rather ironic article about security violations on blogs and official websites.
Though I fully support what the military terms "operational security" (keeping key details away from the enemy), I am continually frustrated by the arbitary and silly removal of information that someone has deemed "sensitive." More and more government websites, which used to be sources of helpful information, have been so "dumbed down" in the name of security that they are worthless. Unfortunately, printed sources of information - remember libraries, with real books? - are disappearing rapidly thanks to the power of the Internet. Argh.
Okay, that's the end of my rant.
On a lighter note, one of the nice benefits of being deployed here is the nearly total absence of cell phones. I actually get to enjoy meals in the mess hall in peace and without having to constantly listen to the personal telephone conversations of those around me. I will miss that extra bit of silence when I finally return home.
Click here for a rather ironic article about security violations on blogs and official websites.
Though I fully support what the military terms "operational security" (keeping key details away from the enemy), I am continually frustrated by the arbitary and silly removal of information that someone has deemed "sensitive." More and more government websites, which used to be sources of helpful information, have been so "dumbed down" in the name of security that they are worthless. Unfortunately, printed sources of information - remember libraries, with real books? - are disappearing rapidly thanks to the power of the Internet. Argh.
Okay, that's the end of my rant.
On a lighter note, one of the nice benefits of being deployed here is the nearly total absence of cell phones. I actually get to enjoy meals in the mess hall in peace and without having to constantly listen to the personal telephone conversations of those around me. I will miss that extra bit of silence when I finally return home.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
It Has Been a Long, Long Week
It is Sunday here, and I have a few minutes of quiet time to post after what seems like the longest week of my life. Our months of training together in long, stressful command post exercises have been put to the test in ways I didn't think possible.
You probably about a suicide bombing in Northern Iraq that killed nearly 250 civilians. You may not have heard about a major bridge being destroyed in Baghdad, and the heroic efforts to restore it.
The bridge destruction was a crisis of major proportions for us. Unfortunately, I can't provide a lot of details about "why," but take my word for it. This was one of the most difficult professional challenges I have ever faced...and it isn't over yet (though the situation has improved). If we had been given this scenario as a training problem, we would have dismissed it as unrealistic. Instead, my comrades and I quickly learned just how much worse it could have been.
The bombing was a senseless tragedy perpetuated against a group of people who were completely innocent...neither Shia nor Sunni and not a political force of any kind. We were all shocked by the devastation and brutality of the attack, but were blessed with a chance to do something about it. The great young soldiers and NCOs of my unit here at Enormo helped make sure that food, tents, blankets and cots were quickly shipped north to assist those who survived the attack. I was humbled and enormously proud to be present as these great Americans pulled together and focused on getting help to those who needed it most.
As if these events weren't enough, the local insurgents have been attacking FOB Enormo with mortar fire every day (sometimes twice a day). Fortunately, their aim is pretty bad.
If things stay quiet, I hope to get a decent night's sleep for the first time in days.
You probably about a suicide bombing in Northern Iraq that killed nearly 250 civilians. You may not have heard about a major bridge being destroyed in Baghdad, and the heroic efforts to restore it.
The bridge destruction was a crisis of major proportions for us. Unfortunately, I can't provide a lot of details about "why," but take my word for it. This was one of the most difficult professional challenges I have ever faced...and it isn't over yet (though the situation has improved). If we had been given this scenario as a training problem, we would have dismissed it as unrealistic. Instead, my comrades and I quickly learned just how much worse it could have been.
The bombing was a senseless tragedy perpetuated against a group of people who were completely innocent...neither Shia nor Sunni and not a political force of any kind. We were all shocked by the devastation and brutality of the attack, but were blessed with a chance to do something about it. The great young soldiers and NCOs of my unit here at Enormo helped make sure that food, tents, blankets and cots were quickly shipped north to assist those who survived the attack. I was humbled and enormously proud to be present as these great Americans pulled together and focused on getting help to those who needed it most.
As if these events weren't enough, the local insurgents have been attacking FOB Enormo with mortar fire every day (sometimes twice a day). Fortunately, their aim is pretty bad.
If things stay quiet, I hope to get a decent night's sleep for the first time in days.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
TOA (pronounced "toe-uh")
The big day has finally arrived...TOA, or "transfer of authority." At 10:00 this morning, my unit officially took on its mission here in Iraq.
The last couple of weeks have been arduous at best as we tried to gain as much knowledge as possible from the unit we relieved. We've been training for this for months, but there is no subsititute for being here and gaining informal, institutional knowledge. For me, 16-18 hour days have been the norm. I would arrive at around 6:30 after a quick breakfast, meet with my "counterpart" (the officer I replaced) for about an hour of briefings and knowledge sharing, work and attend meetings from 7:30 AM until about 9:30 PM and conclude the day with more briefings with my counterpart until about 11:30 PM or midnight. After that, it was off to bed for a few hours sleep before getting up the next morning to start again.
Our counterparts are now on their way back to the U.S., and I wish them a safe journey home. They have worked just as hard as we have during these past few weeks and made sure we were ready to take on this mission. My counterpart was an exceptionally smart and level-headed officer and I was sorry to see him go. He would have been great to work with over here.
Thanks for all for the e-mails and real mail that have been flowing in. Wow! It has been difficult to keep up...e-mails have gone unanswered and even "real mail" has gone unopened as I've poured most of my energy into this transition period. This will be a very busy year, but I have started to establish a more normal routine and will be getting caught up. Tonight's post and a several e-mail replies are the first baby steps in that direction.
Oh... the transfer cable for my digital camera arrived so I will be posting a few photos (after I reduce them to a manageable file size).
The last couple of weeks have been arduous at best as we tried to gain as much knowledge as possible from the unit we relieved. We've been training for this for months, but there is no subsititute for being here and gaining informal, institutional knowledge. For me, 16-18 hour days have been the norm. I would arrive at around 6:30 after a quick breakfast, meet with my "counterpart" (the officer I replaced) for about an hour of briefings and knowledge sharing, work and attend meetings from 7:30 AM until about 9:30 PM and conclude the day with more briefings with my counterpart until about 11:30 PM or midnight. After that, it was off to bed for a few hours sleep before getting up the next morning to start again.
Our counterparts are now on their way back to the U.S., and I wish them a safe journey home. They have worked just as hard as we have during these past few weeks and made sure we were ready to take on this mission. My counterpart was an exceptionally smart and level-headed officer and I was sorry to see him go. He would have been great to work with over here.
Thanks for all for the e-mails and real mail that have been flowing in. Wow! It has been difficult to keep up...e-mails have gone unanswered and even "real mail" has gone unopened as I've poured most of my energy into this transition period. This will be a very busy year, but I have started to establish a more normal routine and will be getting caught up. Tonight's post and a several e-mail replies are the first baby steps in that direction.
Oh... the transfer cable for my digital camera arrived so I will be posting a few photos (after I reduce them to a manageable file size).
Friday, August 3, 2007
Welcome to FOB Enormo
I’ve arrived…home sweet home for the next 12 months.
As the name suggests, FOB Enormo is a pretty big place. It is an old Iraqi Air Force base with tens of thousands soldiers and civilians living here on any given day. It is quite a mix here: Army, Navy, Air Force, a few Marines, US government civilians, US government contractors and “third country national” (TCN) contractors. There are very, very few Iraqis on the FOB and their access is tightly controlled. The TCN contractors are from a bewildering array of countries…mostly Asian and Middle Eastern. Many of the guards who protect places like the PX, the dining facilities and our work compound are from various African countries. They are very serious about their duties but still much friendlier overall than the rest of the TCNs. I’ll probably learn a little Swahili before this deployment is over. Right now, my vocabulary is limited to “hello” and “how are you.”
One of the most surreal aspects of being here is that you can’t go anywhere—ANYWHERE—without your weapon. You are not allowed in the dining hall without a weapon and the guards at the PX will give you a very hard time if you don’t have a weapon (though they are slightly more lenient than the dining hall guards). The only time I am not armed is when I’m in the shower, working out or sleeping…but the pistol is within arm’s reach when I’m sleeping or showering. I’m luckier than most since my assigned weapon is a 9mm pistol.
Unlike Kuwait, we actually have some trees on FOB Enormo. In addition to palms, I think we have a number of what appear to be cedar trees. I’m not a tree expert but I will eventually find a few minutes to research what they really are. The trees don’t really provide any shade but they do make the place a bit more scenic than the vast deserts of Kuwait. I have yet to see any grass. Everything underfoot is either dirt, gravel or pavement.
There is also a steady buzzing of cargo planes, fighter jets and helicopters. Jets and planes remind me of my younger days living on Air Force bases in the US. The helicopters tend to fly rather low over our work compound. I enjoyed the sound at first, until I realized why the helicopters were coming in so low: our work compound under the final flight path to the base hospital, so most of the helicopters I hear and see are Medevac aircraft bringing wounded soldiers into the hospital or launching to pick them up. The sound of those engines now pains me. Fortunately, the helicopters are touching down at a newly improved hospital staffed by skilled and dedicated military medical professionals.
As the name suggests, FOB Enormo is a pretty big place. It is an old Iraqi Air Force base with tens of thousands soldiers and civilians living here on any given day. It is quite a mix here: Army, Navy, Air Force, a few Marines, US government civilians, US government contractors and “third country national” (TCN) contractors. There are very, very few Iraqis on the FOB and their access is tightly controlled. The TCN contractors are from a bewildering array of countries…mostly Asian and Middle Eastern. Many of the guards who protect places like the PX, the dining facilities and our work compound are from various African countries. They are very serious about their duties but still much friendlier overall than the rest of the TCNs. I’ll probably learn a little Swahili before this deployment is over. Right now, my vocabulary is limited to “hello” and “how are you.”
One of the most surreal aspects of being here is that you can’t go anywhere—ANYWHERE—without your weapon. You are not allowed in the dining hall without a weapon and the guards at the PX will give you a very hard time if you don’t have a weapon (though they are slightly more lenient than the dining hall guards). The only time I am not armed is when I’m in the shower, working out or sleeping…but the pistol is within arm’s reach when I’m sleeping or showering. I’m luckier than most since my assigned weapon is a 9mm pistol.
Unlike Kuwait, we actually have some trees on FOB Enormo. In addition to palms, I think we have a number of what appear to be cedar trees. I’m not a tree expert but I will eventually find a few minutes to research what they really are. The trees don’t really provide any shade but they do make the place a bit more scenic than the vast deserts of Kuwait. I have yet to see any grass. Everything underfoot is either dirt, gravel or pavement.
There is also a steady buzzing of cargo planes, fighter jets and helicopters. Jets and planes remind me of my younger days living on Air Force bases in the US. The helicopters tend to fly rather low over our work compound. I enjoyed the sound at first, until I realized why the helicopters were coming in so low: our work compound under the final flight path to the base hospital, so most of the helicopters I hear and see are Medevac aircraft bringing wounded soldiers into the hospital or launching to pick them up. The sound of those engines now pains me. Fortunately, the helicopters are touching down at a newly improved hospital staffed by skilled and dedicated military medical professionals.
Heading North
(written on/about July 20, 2007)
After a few days in Kuwait, I was paroled from my stay at our desert camp and put on a flight north to Iraq to my new home—which I’ll call “FOB Enormo.” My colleagues, alas, will be spending another few days in Kuwait including a couple of nights at a remote training range with none of the comforts of home.
Since we had been staying in a large tent with no furniture except for our cots, I was able to pack up in short order. One item of discussion was how to set up our IBA for the trip north. On arrival in Kuwait, we were instructed that we could remove the side armor, groin protector and arm guards that provide additional protection (and are generally intended for use by soldiers out on convoys). This was a welcome relief since these items add both weight and heat to the armor.
As we prepared for our flight, however, word filtered in that we were to re-attach all of these components to our armor. There was much grumbling since we had already packed these pieces. Several of my colleagues noted that no one from the unit would be there to check up on us as we departed and thus we could likely wear whatever we wanted. I asked myself, “what would my family and beloved Elf want me to do? “
It took me about 10 minutes to find and re-attach the additional armor.
I bid brief goodbyes to Tommy and Apollo (John was nowhere to be found…probably up at the recreation center). After a short prayer from our chaplain, we loaded the bus after nightfall for the trip to the airfield. It was difficult to see many stars due to dust and artificial lighting, but there was a beautiful crescent moon as we set out. The bus trip was quiet; some of us slept while others were lost in their own thoughts. The body armor and the live ammunition we were issued when boarding the bus were clear reminders that were heading into potentially dangerous territory.
We flew north on a C-130 cargo aircraft, along with soldiers from another unit and their gear. The first stop was at their base in northern Iraq, which meant that would have a multi-hour flight and would actually pass FOB Enormo during the initial trip north. The addition of a second stop also meant that we would have two opportunities to enjoy the dubious thrill of a combat landing.
Our “combat landings” were rather anticlimactic. I had been told by others that we would make a very steep descent—kind of like riding a roller coaster—along with a lot of various evasive maneuvers as we got closer to the ground. Our landings were a little faster and a bit steeper than a typical airline landing, but they weren’t anything like a roller coaster (unless it was a kid’s coaster).
On arrival at FOB Enormo, we were treated to the first order of business: a video about what to do when you hear the alert sirens sound on FOB Enormo in the event of a rocket or mortar attack. Wow. I was extremely tired from the trip but I had no trouble staying awake through the video!
It is going to be an interesting year.
After a few days in Kuwait, I was paroled from my stay at our desert camp and put on a flight north to Iraq to my new home—which I’ll call “FOB Enormo.” My colleagues, alas, will be spending another few days in Kuwait including a couple of nights at a remote training range with none of the comforts of home.
Since we had been staying in a large tent with no furniture except for our cots, I was able to pack up in short order. One item of discussion was how to set up our IBA for the trip north. On arrival in Kuwait, we were instructed that we could remove the side armor, groin protector and arm guards that provide additional protection (and are generally intended for use by soldiers out on convoys). This was a welcome relief since these items add both weight and heat to the armor.
As we prepared for our flight, however, word filtered in that we were to re-attach all of these components to our armor. There was much grumbling since we had already packed these pieces. Several of my colleagues noted that no one from the unit would be there to check up on us as we departed and thus we could likely wear whatever we wanted. I asked myself, “what would my family and beloved Elf want me to do? “
It took me about 10 minutes to find and re-attach the additional armor.
I bid brief goodbyes to Tommy and Apollo (John was nowhere to be found…probably up at the recreation center). After a short prayer from our chaplain, we loaded the bus after nightfall for the trip to the airfield. It was difficult to see many stars due to dust and artificial lighting, but there was a beautiful crescent moon as we set out. The bus trip was quiet; some of us slept while others were lost in their own thoughts. The body armor and the live ammunition we were issued when boarding the bus were clear reminders that were heading into potentially dangerous territory.
We flew north on a C-130 cargo aircraft, along with soldiers from another unit and their gear. The first stop was at their base in northern Iraq, which meant that would have a multi-hour flight and would actually pass FOB Enormo during the initial trip north. The addition of a second stop also meant that we would have two opportunities to enjoy the dubious thrill of a combat landing.
Our “combat landings” were rather anticlimactic. I had been told by others that we would make a very steep descent—kind of like riding a roller coaster—along with a lot of various evasive maneuvers as we got closer to the ground. Our landings were a little faster and a bit steeper than a typical airline landing, but they weren’t anything like a roller coaster (unless it was a kid’s coaster).
On arrival at FOB Enormo, we were treated to the first order of business: a video about what to do when you hear the alert sirens sound on FOB Enormo in the event of a rocket or mortar attack. Wow. I was extremely tired from the trip but I had no trouble staying awake through the video!
It is going to be an interesting year.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
More Bursts to Follow
Greetings from FOB Enormo, Iraq! (Yes, I've arrived. No, "FOB Enormo" is not the actual name of the location where I am stationed.)
Internet access to work on this blog is a little difficult as I have to rely on the fairly scarce morale & welfare computers to do so. 'Net access is no problem at work, but working on a blog on my "official" computer is a big no-no. We are also incredibly busy as we prepare to officially take over from the unit we are replacing. However, I have been working off-line and should have several new posts up in the next couple of days.
Internet access to work on this blog is a little difficult as I have to rely on the fairly scarce morale & welfare computers to do so. 'Net access is no problem at work, but working on a blog on my "official" computer is a big no-no. We are also incredibly busy as we prepare to officially take over from the unit we are replacing. However, I have been working off-line and should have several new posts up in the next couple of days.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Welcome to Kuwait
As the old saying goes, “this isn’t the end of the earth, but you can see it from here.”
After a marathon plane trip with brief stops in Bangor, Maine and Shannon, Ireland, we arrived in Kuwait in the middle of the night—Kuwait time. My body clock was still 7 hours behind the local time, so I had plenty of energy. We boarded buses for an interminable ride to our desert training camp. We were greeted and viewed a series of short orientation videos while our ID cards were scanned to officially begin our service in the combat zone. The whole process was quite efficient and well organized, from the buses that met us at the airport to the carefully choreographed inprocessing routine. It was quite a change from the confusion that seemed to accompany nearly every training event we experienced at our mobilization station.
The heat here is intense, but not unbearable since there is very little humidity. It is very similar to what I experienced during a visit to Las Vegas in August 2006—except that that there aren’t any casinos, prostitutes, alcohol or stage shows. (I suspect I could probably find prostitutes and alcohol out here if I looked in the right places!) The sand is pervasive, though it is more like dust or dirt than the kind of sand you find at the beach. I quickly learned to start bundling up sensitive electronics into plastic bags to ensure they don’t become expensive victims of the climate.
The training schedule has been very light and is intended to allow us to acclimate to the desert environment. My battle buddies and I are back on our physical training routines and usually head out for a run at 5:00 AM or so while temperatures are still bearable. We’ve also had ample time to call home and relax at the recreation facilities. There is plenty to do with idle time including an impressively equipped fitness center. There are also pool tables, a decent theater with recent movies (now playing: Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, 300 and Premonition) and a variety of other activities. The Army and Air Force Exchange Service (AAFES) is also here in full force with several small PX (post exchange) outlets and other concessionaires. There are plenty of ways to spend your money.
The food is plentiful and good. In addition to two contractor-operated dining facilities, there are small versions of several American fast food concerns: Burger King, Subway, Nathan’s Hot Dogs and KFC. There is even a small Starbucks outlet, which was a pleasant surprise since the normal concessionaire is a place called “Green Beans Coffee” (and is also found here). I will have to see if they can brew up a Triple Grande Mocha in honor of Elf.
Did I mention that we are spoiled?
After a marathon plane trip with brief stops in Bangor, Maine and Shannon, Ireland, we arrived in Kuwait in the middle of the night—Kuwait time. My body clock was still 7 hours behind the local time, so I had plenty of energy. We boarded buses for an interminable ride to our desert training camp. We were greeted and viewed a series of short orientation videos while our ID cards were scanned to officially begin our service in the combat zone. The whole process was quite efficient and well organized, from the buses that met us at the airport to the carefully choreographed inprocessing routine. It was quite a change from the confusion that seemed to accompany nearly every training event we experienced at our mobilization station.
The heat here is intense, but not unbearable since there is very little humidity. It is very similar to what I experienced during a visit to Las Vegas in August 2006—except that that there aren’t any casinos, prostitutes, alcohol or stage shows. (I suspect I could probably find prostitutes and alcohol out here if I looked in the right places!) The sand is pervasive, though it is more like dust or dirt than the kind of sand you find at the beach. I quickly learned to start bundling up sensitive electronics into plastic bags to ensure they don’t become expensive victims of the climate.
The training schedule has been very light and is intended to allow us to acclimate to the desert environment. My battle buddies and I are back on our physical training routines and usually head out for a run at 5:00 AM or so while temperatures are still bearable. We’ve also had ample time to call home and relax at the recreation facilities. There is plenty to do with idle time including an impressively equipped fitness center. There are also pool tables, a decent theater with recent movies (now playing: Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, 300 and Premonition) and a variety of other activities. The Army and Air Force Exchange Service (AAFES) is also here in full force with several small PX (post exchange) outlets and other concessionaires. There are plenty of ways to spend your money.
The food is plentiful and good. In addition to two contractor-operated dining facilities, there are small versions of several American fast food concerns: Burger King, Subway, Nathan’s Hot Dogs and KFC. There is even a small Starbucks outlet, which was a pleasant surprise since the normal concessionaire is a place called “Green Beans Coffee” (and is also found here). I will have to see if they can brew up a Triple Grande Mocha in honor of Elf.
Did I mention that we are spoiled?
The Agony of Mobilization, Part 2
(written on/about July 13, 2007)
The actual training associated with mobilization was quite useful, although the training staff was stretched to their limits to keep up with the demands of our unit. A “normal” unit arriving at a mobilization station is usually 150 personnel or less; our unit arrived with nearly 400 personnel at varying stages of their training. A unit of our size really wreaks havoc on the support system needed for training. Ammunition, transportation to the training sites, food at the training sites, staff to conduct the training and equipment to train on all need to be arranged. In addition, our trainers have to keep meticulous records to track each individual’s completion of required training events. If that wasn’t enough, our unit is staffed with a number of senior officers and NCOs and it seems that EVERYONE has an opinion or a better way to run training.
We conducted our training in two phases. The first phase, which occurred before we arrived at our mobilization station, was largely individual tactical training and introductory convoy operations training. Our time was spent practicing basic soldier skills such as low crawling while under fire, basic first aid, visual signals, radio operations, etc. For some of us—including me—it had been a long, long time since we had practiced these skills. It was a good refresher and I learned quite a bit about the newer equipment we would be using. The unit split up into two large groups for this phase of training. One group suffered through the training in late March/early April at a base in the mid-Atlantic—and got to endure cold conditions and a bit of snow. The second group trained in late April at the base where we would return for mobilization—and got an early taste of the heat and humidity we would soon experience. I ended up in the second group as I was fortunate enough to attend an Army school I desperately need to learn my new duties (the “Support Operations Course”) during March.
To manage such a large group, we were split into a number of smaller training groups of about 30 to 40 soldiers. This complicated the organization and logistics of training somewhat but was rather enjoyable since it gave us a chance to meet (and train with) soldiers from outside of our normal work groups. In a unit of nearly 400 folks, it would be otherwise hard to meet everyone. In my case, I was also blessed to have my two of my great NCOs in the group with me—I’ll call them Sergeant Elmo and Sergeant Rice. More on them later; much like my battle buddies, I’m sure they will be recurring figures in this blog.
Mobilization training was a cornucopia of individual and team events. We qualified with our weapons at the firing range, learned how to restrain prisoners, operated a checkpoint and had multiple classes on the critical subjects of improvised explosive devices (IEDs) and survival, evasion, resistance and escape (SERE). Convoy operations training, including how to react to various kinds of attacks, consumed a lot of our time as well. I don’t expect to be out on any convoys, nor do I expect many folks from our unit to participate in convoys. However, it is incredibly important to know how to react if you end up in that situation for some reason. The “graduation exercise” for convoy training involved reacting to a simulated attack…with real bullets (known as “live fire”). No, we weren’t shooting at live targets—only pop-up plastic targets. Since a carry a pistol, I didn’t shoot at anything. Instead, I rode in the “vehicle commander” seat and operated the radios.
Nearly all of the training was conducted in our omnipresent body armor, which added a entirely new layer of challenge to the training.
Body armor also followed us to perhaps the most physically challenging event: land navigation. Land navigation was three separate events: day land navigation in a vehicle using a global positioning system (which was a quite fun), day land navigation on foot and night land navigation on foot. Land navigation on foot while wearing body armor is no fun whatsoever, especially in high heat and humidity. However, my land navigation experience was relatively painless thanks to Sergeants Elmo and Rice. Both of them are incredibly talented NCOs who quickly identified the smart way to tackle our land navigation problems. We located all of our assigned points without too much difficulty Both are blessed with a quick and sarcastic wit—which they readily apply to me (in private). During the night land navigation course, I had at least three small tantrums in short succession—including one where I nearly threw a balky compass into a nearby swamp. After I calmed down (somewhat), Sergeant Elmo inquired about my mental health in a manner that was both incredibly funny and remarkably profane. I soon found myself laughing so hard that I could barely remember why I had gotten so angry. It was a welcome relief at the end of a long and demanding day.
Many of our trainers were combat veterans and did their best to share their experiences. They are faced with the difficult task of teaching us doctrine (the textbook approach) while reconciling it with the ever-changing tactics and techniques that are currently being used in combat. At times, they were in a no-win situation but worked hard to provide us with quality training with the tools at hand.
The actual training associated with mobilization was quite useful, although the training staff was stretched to their limits to keep up with the demands of our unit. A “normal” unit arriving at a mobilization station is usually 150 personnel or less; our unit arrived with nearly 400 personnel at varying stages of their training. A unit of our size really wreaks havoc on the support system needed for training. Ammunition, transportation to the training sites, food at the training sites, staff to conduct the training and equipment to train on all need to be arranged. In addition, our trainers have to keep meticulous records to track each individual’s completion of required training events. If that wasn’t enough, our unit is staffed with a number of senior officers and NCOs and it seems that EVERYONE has an opinion or a better way to run training.
We conducted our training in two phases. The first phase, which occurred before we arrived at our mobilization station, was largely individual tactical training and introductory convoy operations training. Our time was spent practicing basic soldier skills such as low crawling while under fire, basic first aid, visual signals, radio operations, etc. For some of us—including me—it had been a long, long time since we had practiced these skills. It was a good refresher and I learned quite a bit about the newer equipment we would be using. The unit split up into two large groups for this phase of training. One group suffered through the training in late March/early April at a base in the mid-Atlantic—and got to endure cold conditions and a bit of snow. The second group trained in late April at the base where we would return for mobilization—and got an early taste of the heat and humidity we would soon experience. I ended up in the second group as I was fortunate enough to attend an Army school I desperately need to learn my new duties (the “Support Operations Course”) during March.
To manage such a large group, we were split into a number of smaller training groups of about 30 to 40 soldiers. This complicated the organization and logistics of training somewhat but was rather enjoyable since it gave us a chance to meet (and train with) soldiers from outside of our normal work groups. In a unit of nearly 400 folks, it would be otherwise hard to meet everyone. In my case, I was also blessed to have my two of my great NCOs in the group with me—I’ll call them Sergeant Elmo and Sergeant Rice. More on them later; much like my battle buddies, I’m sure they will be recurring figures in this blog.
Mobilization training was a cornucopia of individual and team events. We qualified with our weapons at the firing range, learned how to restrain prisoners, operated a checkpoint and had multiple classes on the critical subjects of improvised explosive devices (IEDs) and survival, evasion, resistance and escape (SERE). Convoy operations training, including how to react to various kinds of attacks, consumed a lot of our time as well. I don’t expect to be out on any convoys, nor do I expect many folks from our unit to participate in convoys. However, it is incredibly important to know how to react if you end up in that situation for some reason. The “graduation exercise” for convoy training involved reacting to a simulated attack…with real bullets (known as “live fire”). No, we weren’t shooting at live targets—only pop-up plastic targets. Since a carry a pistol, I didn’t shoot at anything. Instead, I rode in the “vehicle commander” seat and operated the radios.
Nearly all of the training was conducted in our omnipresent body armor, which added a entirely new layer of challenge to the training.
Body armor also followed us to perhaps the most physically challenging event: land navigation. Land navigation was three separate events: day land navigation in a vehicle using a global positioning system (which was a quite fun), day land navigation on foot and night land navigation on foot. Land navigation on foot while wearing body armor is no fun whatsoever, especially in high heat and humidity. However, my land navigation experience was relatively painless thanks to Sergeants Elmo and Rice. Both of them are incredibly talented NCOs who quickly identified the smart way to tackle our land navigation problems. We located all of our assigned points without too much difficulty Both are blessed with a quick and sarcastic wit—which they readily apply to me (in private). During the night land navigation course, I had at least three small tantrums in short succession—including one where I nearly threw a balky compass into a nearby swamp. After I calmed down (somewhat), Sergeant Elmo inquired about my mental health in a manner that was both incredibly funny and remarkably profane. I soon found myself laughing so hard that I could barely remember why I had gotten so angry. It was a welcome relief at the end of a long and demanding day.
Many of our trainers were combat veterans and did their best to share their experiences. They are faced with the difficult task of teaching us doctrine (the textbook approach) while reconciling it with the ever-changing tactics and techniques that are currently being used in combat. At times, they were in a no-win situation but worked hard to provide us with quality training with the tools at hand.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Supporting the Troops in Bangor, Maine
We departed our mobilization training site late last night enroute to the middle east. Fortunately, we are travelling via charted commercial flight and NOT in the back of a military cargo jet.
After a short flight up the coast, we landed in Bangor, Maine to refuel for an hour or so before heading across the ocean. On landing in Bangor, we were treated to one of the most moving experiences I've had while in uniform.
We deplaned at around 1:00 in the morning. After a long walk down the jetway we were greeted by a group of about 30 local volunteers who were lined up to shake our hands and thank us for our service as we entered the terminal. They were a mix of old and young; our first greeter was a World War 2 but several others looked to be in their early 30s. They also took the time to chat with us a bit as we milled about the terminal looking for coffee or just taking a short break prior to the long trans-Atlantic flight ahead.
As we boarded the plane an hour or so later, the group lined up again to wish us well during our upcoming deployment.
I'm told that this is a well organized effort and that they always volunteers on hand to meet planes carrying soldiers--at any hour, day or night.
God bless the good people of Bangor, Maine. Your efforts mean more to us than you can possibly know.
After a short flight up the coast, we landed in Bangor, Maine to refuel for an hour or so before heading across the ocean. On landing in Bangor, we were treated to one of the most moving experiences I've had while in uniform.
We deplaned at around 1:00 in the morning. After a long walk down the jetway we were greeted by a group of about 30 local volunteers who were lined up to shake our hands and thank us for our service as we entered the terminal. They were a mix of old and young; our first greeter was a World War 2 but several others looked to be in their early 30s. They also took the time to chat with us a bit as we milled about the terminal looking for coffee or just taking a short break prior to the long trans-Atlantic flight ahead.
As we boarded the plane an hour or so later, the group lined up again to wish us well during our upcoming deployment.
I'm told that this is a well organized effort and that they always volunteers on hand to meet planes carrying soldiers--at any hour, day or night.
God bless the good people of Bangor, Maine. Your efforts mean more to us than you can possibly know.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The Agony of Mobilization, Part 1
Army Reserve and National Guard units, when called to active duty, get to enjoy the unique experience known as mobilization training. Mobilization training is a necessary evil—much like a root canal or colonoscopy, except that no anesthesia is provided.
First United States Army, commanded by the infamous LTG Russell Honore of Hurricane Katrina fame (“Don’t get stuck on stupid), is responsible for inflicting mobilization training on Army Reserve and National Guard units. First Army has embraced the concept of “theater immersion training,” which is designed to replicate conditions in Iraq or Afghanistan as closely as possible. For my unit, “theater immersion” means that we are asked to occasionally endure living conditions that are worse than anything we will ever experience one deployed. These hardship conditions include tents, cots with sleeping bags (instead of beds with mattresses) and the use of portable toilets instead of standard plumbing. Since the unit (average age 35) is full of senior officers and senior non-commissioned officers who specialize in logistics—not combat operations—our periodic bouts of “theater immersion” produce a level of whining and complaining that has to be seen to be believed.
The tents, however, are air conditioned and have floors. While in the simulated operating base (“FOB”), we also received two hot meals a day (breakfast and dinner) with the infamous MRE’s for lunch. We had access to hot showers every day, as well as access to an air conditioned trailer with about half a dozen Internet-enabled computers. Finally, a small PX is open for a couple of hours each afternoon and does a brisk business among shopping-obsessed soldiers.
Because of the unique nature of the unit, we have only spent perhaps a total of two weeks in the FOB and have lived in air-conditioned barracks for the rest of our mobilization. We are spoiled; most units spend at least a month in the FOB during their pre-deployment training. In addition, most of our training and evaluation has occurred in an air-conditioned, heavily computerized command post building.
Did I mention that we are spoiled?
First United States Army, commanded by the infamous LTG Russell Honore of Hurricane Katrina fame (“Don’t get stuck on stupid), is responsible for inflicting mobilization training on Army Reserve and National Guard units. First Army has embraced the concept of “theater immersion training,” which is designed to replicate conditions in Iraq or Afghanistan as closely as possible. For my unit, “theater immersion” means that we are asked to occasionally endure living conditions that are worse than anything we will ever experience one deployed. These hardship conditions include tents, cots with sleeping bags (instead of beds with mattresses) and the use of portable toilets instead of standard plumbing. Since the unit (average age 35) is full of senior officers and senior non-commissioned officers who specialize in logistics—not combat operations—our periodic bouts of “theater immersion” produce a level of whining and complaining that has to be seen to be believed.
The tents, however, are air conditioned and have floors. While in the simulated operating base (“FOB”), we also received two hot meals a day (breakfast and dinner) with the infamous MRE’s for lunch. We had access to hot showers every day, as well as access to an air conditioned trailer with about half a dozen Internet-enabled computers. Finally, a small PX is open for a couple of hours each afternoon and does a brisk business among shopping-obsessed soldiers.
Because of the unique nature of the unit, we have only spent perhaps a total of two weeks in the FOB and have lived in air-conditioned barracks for the rest of our mobilization. We are spoiled; most units spend at least a month in the FOB during their pre-deployment training. In addition, most of our training and evaluation has occurred in an air-conditioned, heavily computerized command post building.
Did I mention that we are spoiled?
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Battle Buddies
(written on/about June 30, 2007)
Friends and family often ask “how do you cope?” It is no picnic, believe me, though I know it could be a lot worse. It is not a lot of fun to leave a home and civilian job behind and re-enter the sometimes wacky world of active duty service. All of you out there are a big reason why I am getting through this without having lost my sanity, but here in the Army my “battle buddies” are my daily support system.
I’ve been very fortunate to have several battle buddies who have been with me since I came back on active duty in March 2007. I thought I would provide you a brief introduction to them, since they will inevitably resurface in future posts. (as you might expect, I’m not using their real names for reasons of privacy and operational security).
1. “Tommy” is an Active Guard and Reserve (AGR) officer, who was assigned to a unit in Europe prior to be transferred to my unit in January/February 2007. Tommy has the driest sense of humor I have ever encountered in my life. His humor is so dry that we were forced to develop a code word to let us know when he was being serious. When of our favorite sports is concocting outlandish rumors and seeing how long it takes for them to spread around the unit. Tommy’s deadpan delivery ensures that even the most outrageous story seems credible. I’m constantly amused and amazed by the number of officers and senior NCOs who accept his tales as reality.
In addition to his considerable talents as a rumor developer, Tommy has an uncanny knowledge of military transportation. He has been a great source of information and guidance and he’s the first person I go to when the question involves transportation. Best of all, he’s got plenty of experience to supplement the facts and doctrine.
2. “John” is another AGR, who came to the unit around the same time as Tommy and currently rooms with him. John is another transportation guru, though much of his experience has been in transportation units that are sometimes called “the Army’s navy.” (yes, the Army has ships…and some of them are quite large). John is a very steady guy and is probably the most stable of the four of us. I can’t imagine how he puts up with Tommy, Apollo (see below) and me on a daily basis.
Poor John’s patience was tested when we were organized into temporary training groups. John was stuck as the “leader” of one of these groups—a task that gives new meaning to the expression “herding cats.” He was getting tugged in different directions by our unit leadership, the soldiers in the training group and the unit providing our training. Somehow, he managed to stay cool and keep a sense of humor through it all. If I’d been in his position, I probably would have punched someone—reapeatedly.
3. Last but not least, “Apollo Creed” is my third battle buddy and roommate. He uses the name Apollo Creed when he puts his name on the waiting list at restaurants, etc – which invariably results in a curious look from the hostess, especially since he (unlike the movie character) is white.
Apollo has been my roommate down here since mid-April, which has been a real adjustment for me since I haven’t had a roommate in almost 20 years. We have managed to get along pretty well and have only occasionally gotten on each other’s nerves despite spending nearly 24 hours a day together for the last 3 months.
Apollo is from the southern United States, and uses his accent and charm to great effect. I could tell you that Apollo is a ladies’ man, but that would grossly understate his talents in the field of interpersonal relations. It is quite fascinating to watch Apollo as he works his magic.
But seriously…Apollo has been a good friend to me throughout this mobilization and I hope I’ve been able to return the favor. We listen to each other complain, drag each other out of the room to run or work out, laugh at each other’s stupid jokes or quirks and generally support each other through thick and thin. That’s the kind of support you need to make it through times like these.
Friends and family often ask “how do you cope?” It is no picnic, believe me, though I know it could be a lot worse. It is not a lot of fun to leave a home and civilian job behind and re-enter the sometimes wacky world of active duty service. All of you out there are a big reason why I am getting through this without having lost my sanity, but here in the Army my “battle buddies” are my daily support system.
I’ve been very fortunate to have several battle buddies who have been with me since I came back on active duty in March 2007. I thought I would provide you a brief introduction to them, since they will inevitably resurface in future posts. (as you might expect, I’m not using their real names for reasons of privacy and operational security).
1. “Tommy” is an Active Guard and Reserve (AGR) officer, who was assigned to a unit in Europe prior to be transferred to my unit in January/February 2007. Tommy has the driest sense of humor I have ever encountered in my life. His humor is so dry that we were forced to develop a code word to let us know when he was being serious. When of our favorite sports is concocting outlandish rumors and seeing how long it takes for them to spread around the unit. Tommy’s deadpan delivery ensures that even the most outrageous story seems credible. I’m constantly amused and amazed by the number of officers and senior NCOs who accept his tales as reality.
In addition to his considerable talents as a rumor developer, Tommy has an uncanny knowledge of military transportation. He has been a great source of information and guidance and he’s the first person I go to when the question involves transportation. Best of all, he’s got plenty of experience to supplement the facts and doctrine.
2. “John” is another AGR, who came to the unit around the same time as Tommy and currently rooms with him. John is another transportation guru, though much of his experience has been in transportation units that are sometimes called “the Army’s navy.” (yes, the Army has ships…and some of them are quite large). John is a very steady guy and is probably the most stable of the four of us. I can’t imagine how he puts up with Tommy, Apollo (see below) and me on a daily basis.
Poor John’s patience was tested when we were organized into temporary training groups. John was stuck as the “leader” of one of these groups—a task that gives new meaning to the expression “herding cats.” He was getting tugged in different directions by our unit leadership, the soldiers in the training group and the unit providing our training. Somehow, he managed to stay cool and keep a sense of humor through it all. If I’d been in his position, I probably would have punched someone—reapeatedly.
3. Last but not least, “Apollo Creed” is my third battle buddy and roommate. He uses the name Apollo Creed when he puts his name on the waiting list at restaurants, etc – which invariably results in a curious look from the hostess, especially since he (unlike the movie character) is white.
Apollo has been my roommate down here since mid-April, which has been a real adjustment for me since I haven’t had a roommate in almost 20 years. We have managed to get along pretty well and have only occasionally gotten on each other’s nerves despite spending nearly 24 hours a day together for the last 3 months.
Apollo is from the southern United States, and uses his accent and charm to great effect. I could tell you that Apollo is a ladies’ man, but that would grossly understate his talents in the field of interpersonal relations. It is quite fascinating to watch Apollo as he works his magic.
But seriously…Apollo has been a good friend to me throughout this mobilization and I hope I’ve been able to return the favor. We listen to each other complain, drag each other out of the room to run or work out, laugh at each other’s stupid jokes or quirks and generally support each other through thick and thin. That’s the kind of support you need to make it through times like these.
Mobilization Hasn’t Destroyed Civilization…yet
(written on/about Fathers Day, 2007)
We’ve had a blessed bit of down time after the conclusion of our evaluated exercise on Friday, and my battle buddies and I have been trying to make the most of it.
We escaped to the small brew pub at the Officer’s Club for a sit down meal. The meal was decent despite our inability to partake of the pub’s signature products thanks to the infamous “General Order Number One” which forbids us from consuming alcohol -- or engaging in most other behaviors accorded to members of a free society. We all enjoyed having someone serve us instead of standing in yet another mess hall queue.
Yesterday was a mostly free day, except for a unit picnic in the late afternoon—and I was able to retrieve my laptop from the repair shop. The picnic wasn’t exactly mandatory, but as an officer the unspoken rule is that you are expected to make an appearance. After a light repast of overcooked burgers, weenies and soda many of us escaped to the post theater to watch SpiderMan 3. This was a big event as it represented the first decent movie they have shown on post since we’ve been here. Alas, the movie was a disappointment (too long, in my view) but we still enjoyed a night away from the barracks.
Today might have been the most civilized day of training throughout this mobilization. The battle buddies and I boarded a van at a reasonable morning hour (8:30 AM) to participate in a gas mask confidence course. Previous “mask confidence courses” I had attended consisted of donning your gas mask, walking into a small building full of tear gas, removing your mask and then exiting the building while simultaneously coughing, sneezing and spontaneously evacuating sinuses and tear ducts.
Today was a much more pleasant event. We walked in with masks on, rolled our heads/necks around to test the mask’s fit and then did a few jumping jacks before leaving. the instructors asked if anyone wanted to volunteer to remove their mask. Unfortunately, no one in my training group was foolish enough to volunteer so I missed out on a good laugh and an even better story to share with chums in the civilian HAZMAT community (who would never be foolish enough to remove their mask in such conditions). Except for a slight burning sensation on the back of my neck, I suffered no physical effects. My confidence in my protective mask remained intact and our training was complete for the day by 9:30 AM.
After the chamber, we showered, put on a fresh uniform and headed back to the Officer’s Club for Sunday brunch. Mmmmmm….good stuff! Excellent pancakes, prime rib and limitless coffee served by a pleasant young waitress. It was another refreshing break from the barracks routine and we managed to make the experience last for about three and a half hours.
(sigh) If only the rest of our training could be this civilized…
We’ve had a blessed bit of down time after the conclusion of our evaluated exercise on Friday, and my battle buddies and I have been trying to make the most of it.
We escaped to the small brew pub at the Officer’s Club for a sit down meal. The meal was decent despite our inability to partake of the pub’s signature products thanks to the infamous “General Order Number One” which forbids us from consuming alcohol -- or engaging in most other behaviors accorded to members of a free society. We all enjoyed having someone serve us instead of standing in yet another mess hall queue.
Yesterday was a mostly free day, except for a unit picnic in the late afternoon—and I was able to retrieve my laptop from the repair shop. The picnic wasn’t exactly mandatory, but as an officer the unspoken rule is that you are expected to make an appearance. After a light repast of overcooked burgers, weenies and soda many of us escaped to the post theater to watch SpiderMan 3. This was a big event as it represented the first decent movie they have shown on post since we’ve been here. Alas, the movie was a disappointment (too long, in my view) but we still enjoyed a night away from the barracks.
Today might have been the most civilized day of training throughout this mobilization. The battle buddies and I boarded a van at a reasonable morning hour (8:30 AM) to participate in a gas mask confidence course. Previous “mask confidence courses” I had attended consisted of donning your gas mask, walking into a small building full of tear gas, removing your mask and then exiting the building while simultaneously coughing, sneezing and spontaneously evacuating sinuses and tear ducts.
Today was a much more pleasant event. We walked in with masks on, rolled our heads/necks around to test the mask’s fit and then did a few jumping jacks before leaving. the instructors asked if anyone wanted to volunteer to remove their mask. Unfortunately, no one in my training group was foolish enough to volunteer so I missed out on a good laugh and an even better story to share with chums in the civilian HAZMAT community (who would never be foolish enough to remove their mask in such conditions). Except for a slight burning sensation on the back of my neck, I suffered no physical effects. My confidence in my protective mask remained intact and our training was complete for the day by 9:30 AM.
After the chamber, we showered, put on a fresh uniform and headed back to the Officer’s Club for Sunday brunch. Mmmmmm….good stuff! Excellent pancakes, prime rib and limitless coffee served by a pleasant young waitress. It was another refreshing break from the barracks routine and we managed to make the experience last for about three and a half hours.
(sigh) If only the rest of our training could be this civilized…
The Gear is Good
(written on/about May 15, 2007)
Military equipment has come a long, long way since I was a cadet…or my brother was a cadet in the early 1980s…or especially since my Dad was a cadet in the mid 1950s!
On a chilly Saturday in early March 2007, I was sized and fitted for the bewildering array of equipment and gadgetry that would eventually be issued through the “Rapid Fielding Initiative” or “RFI” for short. I was like a first time shopper in a glorious military flea market. Body armor, new uniforms, two types of boots, “ballistic eyewear” (wrap around sunglasses), goggles and ultra lightweight long underwear were just a few of the items on display. I had never experienced anything like it during my 17+ years in the Army. I was like a kid on Christmas morning when my gear finally arrived several weeks later. The promises were true! The equipment was brand new, and identical to that issued to our active duty brethren…something rarely seen in an Army Reserve or National Guard unit.
The thrill diminished somewhat when our Interceptor body armor or “IBA” arrived several weeks after the first batch of RFI equipment. The IBA, too, was brand new but it is HEAVY. I had worn bullet-resistant vests at several points earlier in my career but none of them were nearly this heavy. However, none of them were intended to protect the wearer from the kinds of threats that IBA is intended to stop—like AK-47 bullets!
I’m now deep into the mobilization process and I’ve been delighted with the RFI equipment at nearly every turn. Your Army is doing a great job of issuing useful individual equipment to its soldiers. Yes, IBA is still heavy and it is HOT—but I am extremely confident that it will protect me when my life is on the line. The new “Advanced Combat Helmet” is excellent. It is lighter than either the old “steel pot” from my cadet days or the Kevlar/”K Pot” it replaces and it is a huge improvement over both. The Army really got it right this time, with padding on the inside of the helmet and a chin strap that are very similar to most of the bike helmets (and nearly as comfortable).
The Army has also gotten smart and institutionalized the use of Air Force fire-retardant “flight gloves” in the field. They are extremely practical and I’ve worn them for years, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the withering gazes they invited from senior officers and NCOs. Last but not least, RFI includes “ballistic eyewear,” which is a fancy way of referring to wrap-around sunglasses with stronger lenses. My ballistic eyewear happens to have been made by Oakley—whose products I’ve never purchased due to price—but I’ve become a big fan. My eyewear has stopped any number of tree branches, dust clouds and other delights.
Some things have remained the same, and probably will long after I have retired from the service. We are still issued traditional duffel bags as well as olive drab cotton laundry bags—both of which haven’t changed much since the Second World War. I believe our current barracks were also built around that time…which is probably also the last time anyone gave the communal bathroom a good cleaning.
On the whole, I still can’t believe how good our gear has become. I don’t know who was behind RFI, but I’m eternally grateful to him, her or them for making my life as a soldier much easier.
Military equipment has come a long, long way since I was a cadet…or my brother was a cadet in the early 1980s…or especially since my Dad was a cadet in the mid 1950s!
On a chilly Saturday in early March 2007, I was sized and fitted for the bewildering array of equipment and gadgetry that would eventually be issued through the “Rapid Fielding Initiative” or “RFI” for short. I was like a first time shopper in a glorious military flea market. Body armor, new uniforms, two types of boots, “ballistic eyewear” (wrap around sunglasses), goggles and ultra lightweight long underwear were just a few of the items on display. I had never experienced anything like it during my 17+ years in the Army. I was like a kid on Christmas morning when my gear finally arrived several weeks later. The promises were true! The equipment was brand new, and identical to that issued to our active duty brethren…something rarely seen in an Army Reserve or National Guard unit.
The thrill diminished somewhat when our Interceptor body armor or “IBA” arrived several weeks after the first batch of RFI equipment. The IBA, too, was brand new but it is HEAVY. I had worn bullet-resistant vests at several points earlier in my career but none of them were nearly this heavy. However, none of them were intended to protect the wearer from the kinds of threats that IBA is intended to stop—like AK-47 bullets!
I’m now deep into the mobilization process and I’ve been delighted with the RFI equipment at nearly every turn. Your Army is doing a great job of issuing useful individual equipment to its soldiers. Yes, IBA is still heavy and it is HOT—but I am extremely confident that it will protect me when my life is on the line. The new “Advanced Combat Helmet” is excellent. It is lighter than either the old “steel pot” from my cadet days or the Kevlar/”K Pot” it replaces and it is a huge improvement over both. The Army really got it right this time, with padding on the inside of the helmet and a chin strap that are very similar to most of the bike helmets (and nearly as comfortable).
The Army has also gotten smart and institutionalized the use of Air Force fire-retardant “flight gloves” in the field. They are extremely practical and I’ve worn them for years, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the withering gazes they invited from senior officers and NCOs. Last but not least, RFI includes “ballistic eyewear,” which is a fancy way of referring to wrap-around sunglasses with stronger lenses. My ballistic eyewear happens to have been made by Oakley—whose products I’ve never purchased due to price—but I’ve become a big fan. My eyewear has stopped any number of tree branches, dust clouds and other delights.
Some things have remained the same, and probably will long after I have retired from the service. We are still issued traditional duffel bags as well as olive drab cotton laundry bags—both of which haven’t changed much since the Second World War. I believe our current barracks were also built around that time…which is probably also the last time anyone gave the communal bathroom a good cleaning.
On the whole, I still can’t believe how good our gear has become. I don’t know who was behind RFI, but I’m eternally grateful to him, her or them for making my life as a soldier much easier.
Mail Call
(written on/about June 17, 2007)
Another one of those fine Army traditions is mail call. I don’t know how to explain its appeal, but it is one of the highlights of being on active duty.
Mail call here is typically held during morning formation. All 300 or so of us are gathered in a large formation. Formation starts with announcements from the First Sergeant, which inevitably begin with either “Can everybody hear me?” or “All right, listen up real quick” We usually have an informal bet or two over which phrase he is likely to use.
After the First Sergeant (or “Top” as we call him) finishes, the designated mail handlers start calling reading names off of envelopes and packages. Multiple pieces of mail usually elicit a low rumble of envious comments, while boxes/packages lead to cries of “you’d better share that”—on the expectation that the boxes contain edible goodies therein. Brightly colored envelopes or (heaven forbid) perfume-scented mail inevitably summon relentless catcalls and loud harassment. For a people-watcher like me, it is a fascinating social laboratory and I enjoy every minute of it.
Another one of those fine Army traditions is mail call. I don’t know how to explain its appeal, but it is one of the highlights of being on active duty.
Mail call here is typically held during morning formation. All 300 or so of us are gathered in a large formation. Formation starts with announcements from the First Sergeant, which inevitably begin with either “Can everybody hear me?” or “All right, listen up real quick” We usually have an informal bet or two over which phrase he is likely to use.
After the First Sergeant (or “Top” as we call him) finishes, the designated mail handlers start calling reading names off of envelopes and packages. Multiple pieces of mail usually elicit a low rumble of envious comments, while boxes/packages lead to cries of “you’d better share that”—on the expectation that the boxes contain edible goodies therein. Brightly colored envelopes or (heaven forbid) perfume-scented mail inevitably summon relentless catcalls and loud harassment. For a people-watcher like me, it is a fascinating social laboratory and I enjoy every minute of it.
Friday, March 30, 2007
At Least I'm Not Bored
Hello to all! Sorry I haven't updated the site in several weeks but they've been keeping me pretty busy. I just returned from a two week training exercise in Virginia and spent the weeks before the exercise preparing for the event. We have had some very long days and very short nights, especially over the last 4-5 days. I can't complain because the days go by quickly! I can't believe it has been over a month since I re-entered full time military life.
Please check back soon as I hope to post several updates in the coming days/week when I will be on a slightly lighter schedule. Here's a preview of the posts I'm working on and their current titles:
1. Not Your Father's (or Mother's) Army: a good news story about how my unit is being equipped to go to war.
2. Semper Gumby: change and "flexibility" are always with us.
3. It Takes All Kinds: a look at some of the great folks I work with.
Please check back soon as I hope to post several updates in the coming days/week when I will be on a slightly lighter schedule. Here's a preview of the posts I'm working on and their current titles:
1. Not Your Father's (or Mother's) Army: a good news story about how my unit is being equipped to go to war.
2. Semper Gumby: change and "flexibility" are always with us.
3. It Takes All Kinds: a look at some of the great folks I work with.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
The Road to Mobilization
Just how in the world did I end up getting mobilized for Iraq?
As you may have seen in the "About Me" blurb, I've spent nearly 18 years in uniform since being commissioned in 1989. I've had the dubious distinction of having spent time in nearly every "component" of the Army: Regular Army, Individual Ready Reserve, Individual Mobilization Augmentee, National Guard and now Army Reserve. Until now, I've never been asked to serve in a wartime assignment. Operations Just Cause (Panama) and Desert Shield/Desert Storm (Gulf War 1) happened while I was young lieutenant in the active Army, stationed at a small base in western Maryland. As fate would have it, our unit's stateside mission (guarding the underground backup to the Pentagon) was considered too important to allow any of us to volunteer or be transferred to those operations.
Most of my years in the Reserve and National Guard were quiet. I enjoyed the usual "one weekend a month, two weeks in the summer" and even had the opportunity for overseas missions in Panama and Germany. By August 2001, I was assigned to a small organization that served as technical advisors to the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). Our job was to assist FEMA in the use of the military during disasters as well as help train active Army units in the art of supporting civilian authorities during a domestic emergency.
My world began to change dramatically on September 11, 2001. By late that day, I had already been alerted to report to my FEMA assignment immediately. I spent the next few days supporting the response to the Pentagon attack until being released from active duty. Our small unit's mission took on a whole new importance and I found myself spending the next few years spending a lot more time than just one weekend a month performing my Reserve duties. In 2003, the Army Reserve began looking for soldiers to fill understaffed units, a process called "cross-leveling." Because of our homeland security duties, our team was specifically exempt from being cross-leveled into other units. Meanwhile, a number of my friends and military colleagues were soon serving in Iraq or Afghanistan and I wondered when and if I would be asked to join them.
In early late 2005, I learned that members of our team (and others like it) were now eligible to be placed in other units. This came as no surprise to me since large numbers of Guard and Reserve soldiers had been mobilized and it was obvious that more would be needed to sustain a protracted campaign. I knew it would only be a matter of time until I was called.
In September 2006, I was notified that I was being involuntarily transferred into a new unit that was being formed to manage high-level logistics. At that moment, I knew that the chances that I would be mobilized were increasing with each passing week. Toward the end of the year, my suspicions were confirmed and I was told that I would be called to active duty in April 2007.
The news was not a shock and I was rather grateful to have been given so much advance notice. As time went on, I began to learn more about my job and became better acquainted with my new colleagues. In early February, I was told that my mobilization date had been accelerated and that I was to report for active duty on March 1. That was earlier than I had expected, but I still felt that a month was plenty of time to get ready. After a few last days of chasing around, I packed up the car and headed off to join my unit at its home base in Pennsylvania.
I'm proud to be able to serve my country, just as I was proud to serve after the September 11 attacks, Hurricane Isabel, the 2004 hurricanes in the Southeastern US and Hurricane Katrina. I'm not looking forward to being away from loved ones and my civilian job for 16 months but that's a sacrifice that comes with being in the Reserves.
As you may have seen in the "About Me" blurb, I've spent nearly 18 years in uniform since being commissioned in 1989. I've had the dubious distinction of having spent time in nearly every "component" of the Army: Regular Army, Individual Ready Reserve, Individual Mobilization Augmentee, National Guard and now Army Reserve. Until now, I've never been asked to serve in a wartime assignment. Operations Just Cause (Panama) and Desert Shield/Desert Storm (Gulf War 1) happened while I was young lieutenant in the active Army, stationed at a small base in western Maryland. As fate would have it, our unit's stateside mission (guarding the underground backup to the Pentagon) was considered too important to allow any of us to volunteer or be transferred to those operations.
Most of my years in the Reserve and National Guard were quiet. I enjoyed the usual "one weekend a month, two weeks in the summer" and even had the opportunity for overseas missions in Panama and Germany. By August 2001, I was assigned to a small organization that served as technical advisors to the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). Our job was to assist FEMA in the use of the military during disasters as well as help train active Army units in the art of supporting civilian authorities during a domestic emergency.
My world began to change dramatically on September 11, 2001. By late that day, I had already been alerted to report to my FEMA assignment immediately. I spent the next few days supporting the response to the Pentagon attack until being released from active duty. Our small unit's mission took on a whole new importance and I found myself spending the next few years spending a lot more time than just one weekend a month performing my Reserve duties. In 2003, the Army Reserve began looking for soldiers to fill understaffed units, a process called "cross-leveling." Because of our homeland security duties, our team was specifically exempt from being cross-leveled into other units. Meanwhile, a number of my friends and military colleagues were soon serving in Iraq or Afghanistan and I wondered when and if I would be asked to join them.
In early late 2005, I learned that members of our team (and others like it) were now eligible to be placed in other units. This came as no surprise to me since large numbers of Guard and Reserve soldiers had been mobilized and it was obvious that more would be needed to sustain a protracted campaign. I knew it would only be a matter of time until I was called.
In September 2006, I was notified that I was being involuntarily transferred into a new unit that was being formed to manage high-level logistics. At that moment, I knew that the chances that I would be mobilized were increasing with each passing week. Toward the end of the year, my suspicions were confirmed and I was told that I would be called to active duty in April 2007.
The news was not a shock and I was rather grateful to have been given so much advance notice. As time went on, I began to learn more about my job and became better acquainted with my new colleagues. In early February, I was told that my mobilization date had been accelerated and that I was to report for active duty on March 1. That was earlier than I had expected, but I still felt that a month was plenty of time to get ready. After a few last days of chasing around, I packed up the car and headed off to join my unit at its home base in Pennsylvania.
I'm proud to be able to serve my country, just as I was proud to serve after the September 11 attacks, Hurricane Isabel, the 2004 hurricanes in the Southeastern US and Hurricane Katrina. I'm not looking forward to being away from loved ones and my civilian job for 16 months but that's a sacrifice that comes with being in the Reserves.
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